Powerful Alone Unstopable Together
by imaninja41
Summary: They were cast out, they were alone. With only a small string of hope, they managed to find each other. And slowly, they're managing to become the heroes that this city so desperately needs. The Turtles are no longer a team, not without their Sensei. What do they do now that there are new ninja's jumping across New York roof tops? Next Generation Fic rated T for violence (duh)
1. I Write Sins

Naruto stood still, not believing what his eyes showed him. It couldn't be true, it was all a dream. He kept repeating that in his mind, trying to convince himself that his daughter wasn't dead. His wife's scream jolted him out of it.

He saw her fall to her knees, covering her face in her hands, sobbing and screaming. Naruto stepped forward, staring at the man with the swirling orange mask, not believing what the man had just done, to his daughter, to the rest of his friends children.

"Nakato?" He mumbled, as if saying her name aloud would bring her back. As if it would give his little girl back to her.

Sasuke shook slightly beside him, "You… you just, you killed my _son_."

The man chuckled, despite his critical condition, giving a light shrug, "It would seem that way."

Sakura choked back a sob, trying her best not to cry, and pay attention to Temari, who had many violent lacerations up and down her arms. She had to focus, she had to heal Temari. No amount of crying or screaming would bring back her and Sasuke's son. After Temari she had to heal TenTen, then she could pay attention to the man who had just taken her son, Ichiro, from her.

Her and Sasuke's son, Naruto and Hinata's daughter, Shikamaru and Temari's daughter, Gaara and Matsuri's daughter, Neji and TenTen's son… all of them, dead. None of them had even been a full year old… and Madara had killed them.

Shikamaru was the first to snap out of it, launching himself at Madara, tackling the nearly dead mad to the ground. "You!" Madara tried to push Shikamaru off of him, but he was to weak. Shikamaru latched onto Madara's neck, choking him, "You killed my little girl!"

Madara just grinned, and Shikamaru screamed in rage, squeezing his neck tighter, "I'll kill you!"

Naruto snapped out of it, rushing forward, and grabbing Shikamaru, trying to get him to let go. "Leave him alone Shikamaru! We need him!"

Shikamaru fought against Naruto's grip, "Don't tell me that! He killed my child! You saw it happen!"

"I know!" Naruto said, "But you need to get off of him! We need him-"

Shikamaru released Madara, grabbing the front of Naruto's shirt, "Why!? You look me in the eyes, and you tell me why I can kill him!"

Sasuke gripped Shikamaru's shoulder, "Because, he didn't kill her. He didn't kill any of them."

Everyone froze, looking up at Sasuke, eyes wide.

He nodded, "I saw it all, with my sharingan. That wasn't an attack, none of his jutsu's were."

Shikamaru stood up slowly letting Naruto go and looking at Sasuke's desperately, "Then… then what did he do to her?"

Sasuke glared down at Madara, showing nothing but pure hate for the man. "He teleported them away."

Hinata stood up shakily, wiping her eyes, "Where? Where are they?"

Sasuke closed his eyes, a deep sadness taking over his being, "I don't know."

Sakura took her hands away from Temari, knowing she would be fine. Her wounds were gone, but she was still unconscious. She wouldn't be awake for a few hours.

"Shikamaru." She said softly, a gentle command, telling him that for now, he needed to be with his wife. They would find his daughter later.

He walked over, kneeling next to his wife, cradling her head in his arms. She was all he had right now, and he willed her to wake up, to comfort him, to tell him their newborn daughter would be fine, that everything would be okay.

Sakura went to TenTen, who was being held by Neji gently. Neji had been surprisingly quiet, and Sakura had a feeling his byakugan had told him also that it hadn't been an attack. TenTen was badly injured, a huge hole ripped through her leg, and a deep cut in her abdomen. Sakura took a deep breath, focusing on her task.

Gaara quietly brooded, glaring at Madara, "So, where did you send them?"

Madara chuckled, "Do you think I'm going to tell you lot that? You kids… you all may have stopped my plans for Konoha, may have killed me, but I, I've taken away your children, and you'll never get them back."

Sasuke growled, stomping down on Madara's hand, pulling a cry of pain from the old man. "You son of a-"

"I could have simply killed them, you know." Madara smirked. "I could have ripped all of them to shreds right before your eyes. But what would that have done? You could have more children, partially replace the void in your lives I would have created. But this, it's better. You will spend all of your lives, hoping, and wishing, and searching. Praying to find them. But you know what? None of you ever will. Just know this, they're alive, for now. I guarantee they'll all live for a few years, they'll be old enough, old enough to wonder who their parents are, and why they would condemn them to this fate they now all have. And trust me when I tell you, where I've sent them it's horrible. They'll never live to adulthood. None of them will even make it to age twenty. I promise you this."

Madara coughed, blood pouring from his mouth as he went stiff. Madara Uchiha was finally dead.

One by one, the ninja of Konoha and Sunagakure rose up, determination in their eyes. All eyes turned to Sasuke, and Naruto was the first to speak, "Can you bring them back?"

Sasuke took a deep breath, his fists shaking in anger, "No."

TenTen grabbed the front of Sasuke's robe, glaring at him, "Don't you tell me that! You use your eyes, and you bring back my son right now!"

Neji grabbed TenTen's shoulders, pulling her away from Sasuke, "TenTen if there was a way to bring any of our children back, Sasuke would do it. Hear him out."

Sasuke nodded, "The jutsu he preformed, it was a one way type teleportation. I can only send things to our children, I can't bring them, or anything back through the rift Madara created."

Sakura took a deep breath, looking around at her friends, the other parents who'd lost their children just as she had. "So, there's only one question left…"

Temari nodded, "What do we send with them?"

Gaara closed his eyes, overwhelmed with loss, "What could we possibly send, to make it so they could ever find their way back to us?"

Hinata shivered, "What could we give our children to help them survive, wherever they are?"

Everyone was silent contemplating this.

Several hours later, they were all gathered in Naruto's office, ever since he had become Hokage, the office had seemed just a bit… smaller.

Every couple held a small bundle, containing items specific to their child. Some had packed medical equipment, others scrolls, or small trinkets or toys. But everyone had packed one thing in particular, a headband of their child's village, and a letter some were longer than others. All but Gaara's was a leaf headband, the one he was sending of course, was sand.

Hinata looked up at Naruto, "And, if we send them these things, are we sure, that they'll survive?"

Naruto shook his head sadly, "We can't be sure of anything."

Sasuke nodded, "We can hope. Now, everyone be quiet. This is a complicated technique, and I need to focus. Place your packages in front of me, and stand back. I can't afford a misfire."

Every did as they were told, And Sasuke closed his eyes, holding up his hands and flying through the signs, pushing his chacra towards his center. His eyes suddenly shot open, and he thrust his hands forward, fingers curled, palms outstretched towards the bundles.

Just as their young children had not long ago, the bundles vanished.

Everyone was silent, all staring at Sasuke as he stood there, staring at where the bundles had once been. Seconds ticked by, until he nodded, "Yes, I'm sure of it, they reached them."

Everyone heaved a sigh of slightly uneasy relief, and Gaara walked around everyone, heading for the door.

Naruto looked up, "Gaara, where are you going?"

Gaara paused, hand on the door knob. "To tell Matsuri."

Each of the couples went home, and cried together.

Gaara held Matsuri close that night as she screamed at him, accusing him, saying it was his fault their daughter was now gone. He let her scream, and he let a few tears run down his own face.

Naruto and Hinata curled up together, sobbing softly together, trying to hold each other together with their arms. "It'll be okay." Naruto promised, and Hinata just kept crying, because not even he could promise that.

Sasuke held Sakura as she cried into his shoulder, stroking her hair softly, not allowing himself to cry. His son could make it, he knew he could. He was an Uchiha after all.

Neji and TenTen wept together, screamed together, held each other, not leaving their room for days.

Shikamaru locked himself in his study, playing game after game of Shogi, and Temari laid in their bed alone for days.

Eventually, they all managed to step out, to walk around, to accept people condolences, and after a very long time, to actually smile together, to act like they were healing, and eventually, move on as well as they could. Some had other children, one, maybe two others. But none of them would ever be able to replace their first born.

And somewhere, far across the world, their children grew.


	2. Not Tragedies

One by one, the children were found, by different people, different couples, nearly directly across the world from Konoha, from their parents. In a very different place, on the continent of North America, the country of America, state of New York, city, New York City.

Nibori Hyuga was found on the grounds of a very wealthy couple. They were rich in every way but one, they had no children, and the woman was not able to conceive any. So, they took the boy in, and wrapped him in a big puffy blanket, going through the small bundle they had found with him. The letter perplexed the wife, "I can't read any of this. It's all in either Japanese, or Chinese, I can't make head or tail of it."

The husband simply shrugged. "Parents were probably Japanese, left a note for him and all that. When he's older we can get him Japanese lessons. Then he can read it himself."

As Nibori grew up, he didn't make friends easily, people usually thought he was blind when they first met him, because of how pale his eyes were. Doctors couldn't explain it, they just said it was probably a gene that wasn't working properly, and that as long as his vision wasn't off, there was no need for concern.

Nibori was a fairly happy boy. Growing up, he could do most anything he wanted, so he took up a lot of hobbies. He learned several languages, including Japanese, and he learned fencing, boxing, and karate. He played soccer, football, basketball, and even baseball. He grew up like your typical rich kid, until high school, when he convinced his parents to let him go to a public school, so he could get a taste of the real world.

Sabako No Aiko didn't get such a good hand. She landed on the doorstep of a warehouse, cars that zoomed past barely missed her little form. Finally, the warehouse opened up, a gruff man standing there, frowning down at her. He sighed, grabbing her, and the little package next to her, bringing her in.

His girlfriend sat on a ratty old couch, frowning, "What's that?"

He rolled his eyes, "Baby, someone left it on our doorstep."

His girlfriend held out her arms, taking the baby from him. She cradled it, and the baby opened her eyes, cooing at her, babbling softly. Something inside her stirred, motherly affection. That's what made her look up at her boyfriend, and say, "We're keeping her."

He sighed, "Another mouth to feed?"

She shrugged, "I'll pick up an extra shift at Hot Topic, aren't you in line for a raise?"

"Not that much, just an extra hundred a month." He explained. Construction workers didn't get great pay.

She shrugged again, looking through the odd contents of the bundle, "We can do it."

They weren't the best parents in the world, but they were parents. They liked her, but they never really loved her like parents should. She never had many friends growing up, they were all a little creeped out by the big red birthmark on her forehead, that she would find out later was the Japanese Kanji for love.

Most of her clothes were from goodwill, or salvation army. Her parents had to get food stamps to feed her. Eventually, she and her father had to start dealing drugs to get money to afford the rent.

Ichiro Uchiha and Shika Nara got the worst of the lot. They were both found on the doorstep of a group home. For two days, they shared a crib on the boys side of the home, because there was no where on the girls side for Shika to sleep. Then, a few babies got adopted out, and Shika was moved to the girls side.

No one ever adopted Ichiro Uchiha, because of his eyes. Pure black, it creeped all of the parents out. As soon as he turned eight, he was moved into the foster system, better luck for him there.

He never really stayed in one place long, the families wanted a boy who likes sports, or skateboarding, and getting in trouble while hanging out with friends. But he wasn't a very social creature, he stuck to himself, hardly smiled, and glared at anyone he saw.

Shika Nara wasn't adopted either, because of one little flaw. When she came in, there was a deep red cut over her left eye. They treated it, but they were afraid that she would lose her sight in her left eye because of it. No one wanted a half blind baby. The scar stayed, and it wasn't until she was six that they found out she had perfect vision.

Still, no one ever claimed her, the scar was a turn off. They wanted a pretty baby, a pretty little girl. When she was eight, she was also put into the foster system, her homes never really stuck, she tended to scare most people with her behavior.

People wanted a nice daughter, one who liked smiling and laughing. One who wore skirts and dresses and pretty things. Shika wasn't like that. She wore long sleeved, solid color shirts that were comfortable, and straight leg jeans. She didn't socialize very much, she tended to sit back, and stare up at the clouds, by herself. Her grades were perfect, but her drive was lacking. She was a very rare breed, a lazy genius. Her foster dads didn't like it when she told them their favorite foot ball team was going to lose, and then it turned out she was right.

Her foster mothers didn't like it when they asked her "So, any cute boys catch your eye?" and she would simply reply "Boys are such a drag."

Both of them were looking at long, disappointing lives in the foster care system.

Nakato Uzumaki had a decent hand dealt to her by fate. The couple that found her were Japanese, and after reading the beginning of the letter, they hid the package, not showing to had government jobs, the mother was a police officer, and the father was a firefighter. They already had a son, who was eight, and named Mark. The couple had been trying for years to have another child, a girl, but never did. So when Nakato showed up on their front porch, it was a blessing.

She grew up, and was always depressed inside about not knowing her real parents, but hid it was smiles that were to big, and laughter that was to loud. She was born with marks on her face that looked like whiskers, but they were just birthmarks. She was embarrassed about them, but tried to cover up her insecurities with laughter.

Eventually, their parents, adoptive or foster, all give them their belongings, and explain what happened to them. All of them react in different ways, some cry, some shrug it off like nothing, some get angry, some smile to reassure their adoptive parents that they still love them, some simply stare down their caretakers until they leave them alone, but they all do one thing exactly the same as soon as they're able.

They start wearing their headbands, proudly displaying the fact that they're different. They look through books, the internet, tear through old poems and stories, and those who can't read their letters find someone who can read it to them.

How long can this go on, until they start noticing each other?

Eventually, even in the crowded New York City, people are destined to meet.

And with murderers lurking around every corner, how long until they need to fight?


	3. Scouting

If you ain't got two kids by 21, you're probably gonna die alone,

At least that's what tradition told you.

And it don't matter if you don't believe,

Come Sunday morning, you best be there in the front row,

Like you're supposed to.

Same hurt in every heart.

Same trailer different park.

Leonardo had stood on rooftops, watching the city before, but he had never been alone before. He had always had his brothers with him. This time, he didn't. God knows where his brothers were. Well, he actually knew where… most of them were.

After Master Splinter had died, they had all just, gone their separate ways. Mikey, who was the battle nexus champion, went back to the dimensional world to help train the damyo's guards. Donnie dawned a disguise and helped to start O'Neal tech, as Donnetello O'Neal. Leo had stayed and mourned for a year, then went back to Japan to seek guidance. Raphael had been hit the hardest. He had just jumped on his motorcycle, and never came back. Every now and then, Leo would see reports on the news from different states, sighting of the Night Watcher, saving people from muggings and killers. He was never in the same place twice.

And while the brothers were gone, this city had gone to Hell. Things were worse here in New York then they had ever been, the cops were crooked, and the criminals weren't even getting a slap on the wrist for their crimes.

Leo had been stopping muggers and rapists all night, and he had never seen the type of boldness in criminals. They didn't even bother dragging people into the alley, they just mugged and robbed people right on the sidewalk, and no one even spared the victim a passing glance.

This was despicable.

This city needed heroes, more heroes than just Leo. And no matter how much Leo would beg, his brothers would never come back. Mikey, maybe. Donnie, probably not. Raph was a definite no. Actually, Raph was a definite hell no.

So, that meant Leo had to find others, students to teach. Their old home in the sewers was still there, filthy form being left alone so long, but still there. April and Casey hadn't been down their in ages, and there was even more news with the two love birds. April was pregnant. Casey was going to be a father.

Leo sighed, looking down into the streets, April and Casey's child was going to be born into this hell… unless he could do what Master Splinter had done. But where was he going to find kids like those in this city?

Leo frowned, biting his lower lip in thought, well, he could always start with the foster system. They usually had a lot of kids who would do anything just to have a home, a family. There could be other kids, all over the New York streets who would work hard if it meant a real home. He better start looking for a few kids with a little talent.

**WITH AIKO (GAARA AND MATSURI'S DAUGHTER):**

I glared at Jack, brushing my red bangs out of my face, "This is boring."

He snorted, picking up his tool belt, and turning to walk where the other construction workers were starting their day. "It's a job, and it's a decent pay. Therefore, it's a good idea for you to watch and learn. Considering your grades, you'll be working here too one day."

He smirked at me, ruffling my hair, "What am I saying, you still got yer pretty face, right?"

I batted his hand away, crossing my arms. "Shut up."

He just laughed, "Only teasing."

"Don't you have a job to do?" I snapped.

He just sighed, "Maybe."

He walked off to go start the day, and I sighed, coming to work with Jack wasn't exactly something I _wanted _to do. But Emily was working, and they had this fear of me staying home by myself and getting kidnapped by any number of gangs in the area. So I had to come to work with Jack.

I brushed my fingers over the left side of my forehead, fingering the odd birthmark. A lot of people think it's a tattoo, but it's really not. Unless my birth parents had the sick idea to tattoo a baby's forehead.

Wouldn't be the weirdest thing I've ever heard.

Along with the headband had been two letters, one from my supposed mother, and one from my supposed father.

Mom's letter had mostly been the two phrases 'I am so sorry' and 'I love you' repeated over and over. It was nice to read that one every now and then, to remind myself that someone who loved me was out there. My dad's was more complicated.

He also said he was sorry, and that he loved me, but there had been this one paragraph, I've got it memorized. **Be strong, like I know you can be. I promise you, I will find you one day, and I'll bring you home. Until then, stay alive. You'll make it, wherever you are, you'll survive. It's in your blood.**

I couldn't help but wonder every now and then if that's what being a parent is all about. Having that kind of faith in your child. God knows Jack doesn't have that faith in me. He's there for me, for things like food and shelter, but as far as faith goes… he doesn't even trust me half as far as he can throw me. Which is saying something, because he's a big guy, and I'm a really small kid.

I stared at Jack as he pulled out a box of concrete mix. He had been working on this building for several months, but it looked like they were all going to get laid off. The building was almost done, and the developer wanted to hire a better construction crew for the more delicate parts. I curled my hands in fists, and the concrete dust around my feet started shifting.

_Calm down._ I reminded myself. Last time I had gotten to angry I had collapsed my school's gym. No one ever found out it was me, no one had seen that the earth quake had started beneath my feet. I had learned long ago that I could move the earth, well, the sand at least. Better to keep calm and swallow your feelings instead of let it out.

I looked over at the nearly finished building, if it just… fell down, Jack could keep his job, build it again, keep getting paid. I took a deep breath, uncurling my hands, and focusing.

The sand made from concrete dust and rubble started to shake, and a tremor went through the ground. The half finished building shook.

I felt the tiny particles of dirt and sand under the building, and I pulled them towards me. The workers began to notice the danger, and rushed away from the building as it started to tilt. Jack rushed over to me, snatching me up over his shoulder like I weighed nothing, and taking off running with me, as the building hit the ground. Jack would be able to keep his job. Which means I wouldn't have to apply for food stamps again. You couldn't buy warm food with food stamps anyways, only cold food. Like sub sandwiches or can of vegetables.

From the shadows, a tall man in a trench coat watched her, pulling the brim of his hat down slowly. There's one.

**WITH SHIKA NARA:**

It was easy to get by in the foster system, once you learned the best way to avoid getting into families. As long as you stayed in the group homes, you'd be fine, You'd be left alone, and that was better, it actually was. Because families, or the sorry excuse for families that the state gives us, never last long.

Here's the code that you have to live by, if you wanna be left alone. When you're in the group home, keep your head down, and don't stand out, if you don't wanna be fostered out. If you get picked out, and get landed in a foster family, then you start trying to be noticed.

You start being who you really are, what the system shaped you into. For me, that's spouting facts and opinions that are enough to out do the most outspoken talk show host. For instance, my opinions on things like a romantic relationship, or marriage. I think they're both bad ideas. Marriage limits your personal and financial options, and romantic relationship always end in emotional and sometimes physical trauma.

So, whenever I get put into a foster family, I just be myself, sarcastic, robotically smart, and lazy. They usually kick me back to the group homes in a few weeks. Then I can go back to doing what I love, nothing. Nothing, and reading. The library across the street from my group home was loaded with books, about anything and everything. I loved reading, and the strange thing was, anything I read, I remembered.

It wasn't a photographic memory, because I couldn't remember much else. I couldn't remember what I had gotten for Christmas last year, not that I had gotten much… I think it might have been a chess set… no, that was what I got for my tenth birthday. See what I mean?

I'm passing every class with a perfect score, and I've skipped _a lot _of grades. I'm only twelve, but I'm in my last year of high school. Normally, I don't really care about tests and studying, it's troublesome, all of it. But a full scholarship is my _only _ticket out of here. Out of this hell hole we call a city. It's not like I'm asking much out of life, just a place to live without people mugging you at every corner.

I sighed, looking around the nearly empty library, rubbing my eyes tiredly, looking down at the book I had been trying to read. It was a book called the Art of War. I had read it eight times already, but there was so much more to _learn_. So much more to wonder about, to plan. Most of the books that scared kids my age, War and Peace, Art of War, and basically just ridiculously huge books. I had read the entire Series of Unfortunate Events, Pendragon, Sisters Grimm, Fablehaven, and this really odd set of books that consisted of Wizardology, Egyptology, Fairyology, Dragonology, and a few others that were complete fiction, but just interesting because they were written like research journals.

You'd expect I'd feel really proud about all of this, but the fact is, I've skipped three grades, I have an IQ of exactly 247, and I know this because I retake the IQ test every year to see how much better I've gotten. I gained three since last year. I'm at the top of my class, but even with all that, I still feel like I know absolutely nothing.

That's why I'm getting out of New York as soon as I can, because the only thing I do know, is strapped to my left bicep.

I looked over at my arm, running my fingers over the cold metal of the headband I had tied there a few weeks back. After my social worker had shown me that bundle of things I had been left with, I had taken to wearing it around. It just looked weird on my forehead, so I wrapped it around my arm.

I couldn't read the letters at first, so I tracked down a teacher at school who taught Japanese, and I got him to transfer it into English.

I reached into my pocket, pulling out two slips of paper. One was entirely written in Japanese, the other in English. The teacher had felt a bit awkward translating out loud, so I just told him to rewrite the letter in English. Then I had skipped the rest of the school day to read the letter and then cry about it. It wasn't until that day I realized it was a two part letter.

**Shika-**

**I love you more than you know. I know that in time, you might come to hate me and your father for not preventing this, but please know, if there was some way I could bring you home, I would. The man who stole you said you wouldn't live to be an adult, that the place he was taking you was filled with danger, and he promised me that you'd die a painful death.**

**Please, if you're reading this, promise me you wont! I might not be able to be there for you, to watch you take your first steps, to giggle with you behind your fathers back when you have your first crush, to be there as you grow into a woman, to tell you all the things a mother should tell her daughter as she turns five, ten, sixteen, eighteen, twenty one, or when she get's married.**

**Please believe me, if there was a way to reach you, to bring you home, I would do everything in my power to do so.**

**I love you, never doubt that. I hope, one day, I'll see you again.**

**Love,**

**Mommy**

I sighed, going to the second part of the letter.

**Shika-**

**I tried, please believe me, I tried. I tried to make him bring you back, I did. I killed him, in the end. I promise you, I will find you. We'll be together again, I won't let you grow up somewhere away from your family, away from people who care for you.**

**I'll pull every string, I swim across every ocean, cross every desert, until I find you. I will never let anyone hurt you. I promise.**

**-Dad**

You could see the difference in both parts of the letter, so easily. I could almost picture my mother, beautiful, sometimes she was smiling, other times she was crying. My father, tall, strong, that's about as far as I ever really got.

"Shika!"

I looked up, frowning at the sight I saw. Ichiro Uchiha, I didn't like him that much really. I never associated with him, until last week when I saw him with a head band tied around his neck, that looked just like mine.

We had exchanged letters, and figured out that whatever happened to me, also happened to him. So every few days we would check in with each other, make sure that we were both doing fine, and check to make sure that the other hadn't learned anything new about our origins.

"You okay?" I asked.

He shook his head, "No, not really. Do ya know howdah play basket ball?"

I could recognize the thick Brooklyn accent anywhere, everyone I grew up around talked like that. I did too, until I tried to lose my accent a few years ago. I succeeded. "Um… basket ball? Yeah, why?"

"I need anodda player, come on."

He grabbed my wrist, yanking me out of my chair and through the library, "Hey!"

He dragged me outside, across the street, where a crowd of boys were gathered around a pitiful looking basket ball hoop.

"Hey, Ichiro, ya got a goil for an extra player? Are ya dat desperate!?" One of them shouted.

"Keep yer mouth shut Johnny boy, and pass us de ball, it's our turn ta start." Ichiro snapped.

"Ah, nevamind Ichiro, she don't even look like a goil anyways." Johnny laughed, and started the game.

I didn't run around, I stood in one place, and watched them toss the ball around a little, before I calmly walked down to the hoop, waiting. Ichiro jogged over to me, "What are ya doin, ya dumb broad-"

The ball came flying towards me, and I grabbed it out of mid air, dribbled it a little, and then tossed it into the hoop. "And that's game."

The other team groaned, dispersing, and Ichiro stared at me, "Ya didn't… know dat was gonna happen, did ya?"

"Johnny had a sprained wrist, and that other guy on our team, the one with his pants halfway down, kept hitting the other players in the wrist when he went for da ball. Uh- I mean, the ball." I stuttered. "I knew when he hit Johnny's wrist, Johnny would spiral his wrist, and the ball would fly this way."

Ichiro paused, "Shika, are ya tryin ta cova up ya accent?"

I shoved my hands into my pockets, staring at my shoes. I've been beaten up because of my trying to cover it up. A lot of kids around here, adults too, look at my attempts the wrong way. They take it as an insult. "Uh… kind of."

Ichiro raised an eyebrow, "Why? Ya ashamed or somethin?"

"No!" I said quickly, "I just… I'm gonna get out of here one day Ichiro, I am. When I do, I don't want… I don't want to have a constant reminder of where I come from. When I put it behind me, I want it gone, I never want to have to come back."

Ichiro nodded, putting an arm around my shoulders, guiding me down the sidewalk, towards the group home we were staying in. "Yer gettin outta here, huh?"

"Yes." I said firmly.

"Hmm."

"What, you don't think I can do it?" I asked, frowning.

"Nah, just jealous." He admitted. "Cause I know I neva will."

"You could." I corrected, "If you really wanted to. You could get out of here."

"Where would I go?"

"You could come with me." I offered. I don't know why I said that. Maybe it's because I remembered what I felt like when I thought I was going to actually live in this place for the rest of my life.

"And where would ya be goin? Gonna get to Paris wid all de odder pretty goils?"

I glared at the concrete as we walked, "I'm not pretty."

"Who told ya dat?"

"The mirror." I snapped, "And every single foster parent I've ever had, when they kicked me out."

Ichiro shook his head, "Foster parents are dumb as hell, one thing wrong wid ya and dey ship ya back. Dere's nothin wrong wid ya, Shika."

I ran a finger over my left eye, feeling the deep ugly scar there, "Yeah, not so sure about that."

"What? Dat scar?" He asked, grabbing my fingers, and brushing his thumb over my scar slowly.

"Dat's nothin." He whispered. "Dis right here? Dis scar? Dat just shows how tough ya are, goil."

I pushed him away, "Whatever Ichiro."

"Ya neva answered me, where ya gonna go Shika?"

I sighed, "I wanna go somewhere… clean, with big trees all around, and just, space!"

"Ha, ya mean outta de city? Get ya a nice place in de country, neva have to worry about anything again, huh?"

"That's the plan."

Ichiro laughed, "It'll neva happen kid, no one get's out of this town."

"I will." I said firmly. "Tell me, where does it say we have to live and die here? Where does it say that every now and then, we can't catch a break? Why the hell should I spend my whole life living here, where there's no future, even at fifteen? _You _tell _me _Ichiro."

He was silent.

"Exactly."

As we walked into our group home, neither of us noticed the man watching us, covered with a trench coat and fedora. We didn't hear him talk either. "There's two more."

**WITH NAKATO:**

I frowned as I stared at the boy standing across from me. His pants were so low you could see his boxers, tattoos lining his forearms, and gold lining his teeth, "Whacha just say ta me, ho!?" He snapped.

"I asked for you to let me get to my board." I repeated, pointing at the skateboard he had taken from me when I wiped out, his buddies all around him, laughing.

"If ya want it, ya gonna have ta pay for it girlie." He ordered.

"I'm not going to ask again." I said firmly, "Give me my skateboard."

"Seeing as yer a goil, ya can pay for it with dat cheap ass of yers." He sneered.

The minute he stepped towards me, I felt the familiar itch behind my eyes. The familiar tickle of the veins around my eyes popping up, as his figure blurred into something different. I couldn't see his skin, but what was underneath? That was clearly visible.

The familiar blue line pattern was there, I had always wondered what that was, I knew it wasn't blood veins, it wasn't in the right place. But beyond the blue circulatory system, I could see darker and lighter areas on his body. They were pressure points. (I know this isn't exactly how the byakugan works, but I'm taking creative license here, and say that since no one showed her how to properly use the byakugan, Nakato made her own way of using it, allowing her to see pressure points.)

As he walked up to take a swing at me, I leaned to the side, and jabbed two fingers into one of the darker marks on his shoulder. He yelped as his arm went limp, uselessly flopping around. He charged again, trying to hit me with the other one, but I ducked under his arm, hitting two darker points on his back.

He hit the ground, groaning in pain. His buddies gathered around him, mouths dropping as they watched me scoop my skate board up, showing off the paint platter background. I laughed, "Next time you wanna try and get a girl to touch your tiny ding dong, make sure to get one who's blind, and I'm not talking legally blind, I'm talking _blind, _blind. As in, never seen the light of day blind. Oh yeah, and don't ask a twelve year old next time, ya sicko!"

I pulled my black sleeveless jacket around me a little tighter, fingering my necklace. It was a metal chain, with three charms dangling from it. An ice cream cone with three scoops, vanilla, strawberry, and mint, in the middle was a strawberry popsicle, and on the other side was a peppermint.

Leonardo watched from the shadows, pulling his trench coat tighter around him as the blonde girl hopped on her skateboard, riding away quickly. "There's another."

**WITH NIBORI:**

I smiled at my friends as they chanted my name, cheering for me on the side lines. "Come on! Kick his ass back to the ghetto!"

I shook my head, looking at my opponent. His race was obvious, with the words CUBAN PRIDE tattooed across his forearms, there couldn't have been a clearer give away. He had lots of other tattoos, across his neck, behind his ear, even a spider next to his eye.

I held up my bow, loading an arrow, aiming it at the beer bottle sitting on the other side of the street. I waited, timing it just right so it wouldn't hit any cars or people walking, and let it go.

It zipped through the street, barely passing the cars, and hitting the bottle off of the trashcan.

All my friends whooped and cheered, while the Cuban with his bow and arrow walked away dejectedly. One of my closer friends, Tyler slapped my back, "Man! How do you shoot like that!?"

I shrugged, "It just comes natural."

He laughed, "Yeah, whatever man! You've totally been practicing for, like, ten years, I bet!"

I shook my head, "Try ten months."

Leonardo watched form the shadows. "And there's the last one."


End file.
